Sea Glassfor Susanne

Vacant eyes that gazed timelesslytoward the Lido and past Punta Sabbioninow shallow hollowly between sugared lumpson erased faces. No need to journey backto see what is said passing years have donewhen we can twiddle up the tears of thingsin pictures on our phones. Why is blueglass so treasured over coke bottle green?Like shards of memory roughened soft,all stinging glare and slicing edgespolish to glowing lozenges, as if the seaspat half-sucked candies upon the strand.Blue-bottled magnesium milk chalked gutswith a powdered soup of ancient sea limeto cure the mal-de-mer, and trashthat’s now prized so rare once litteredeverywhere. No ticking tock burned offstolid Venetian faces that had staredimpassively upon some million tidesbut our new acid smaze. So don’t glibly blamethe flowing years themselves. The moondrags oceans back and forth, like a womanrubbing clothes over stones by its pearly glow,but it’s ground grit itself, gently swirlingin eternal swaying wash, that grindssmashed garbage into cherished gems.